Category Archives: Woolly Mammoths

Retreat: Day II May 4th

Beltane                                                     Beltane Moon

 

Day II  May 4th, 2012  Dwelling in the Woods

A good nights sleep with cool air from the sub-50 degree temps pouring over the window above my bed.  Clear and powerful dreams with one ending in the presentation to an antique dealer of a metal serving plate chased with three dragons interspersed with scrolling pattern clouds among them.  On the underside it had a small foot and inside the foot’s circle the embossed word American and the date 1531.

Over to the Octagon, a larger common facility for groups, for breakfast which consisted of cereal, toast and English Breakfast tea.  After breakfast Tom, Warren, Frank and I read, each in a different chair.  At one point Frank said, “This is beginning to look like a damned English men’s club.”  And so it did.

Stefan came in, then Charlie Haislet arrived and we slowly gathered to begin time easing our way into the subject of change and how the Woollies might respond to our changing lives.  Mark joined us a bit later.

He’d been on the phone getting his bets clear with his 90 year old father-in-law who wanted to bet this Kentucky Derby. He’s in hospice care, but still carefully analyzing the betting form.  They go to Running Aces, a harness track not from Andover, pretty regularly and have for the last 6 or 7 years.

That lives go on while we are on retreat came into sharp relief with Warren who got a phone call about his Dad.  He’d fallen twice already today. It made the decision to put him in hospice care yesterday look prescient.  While Mark took bets, he got interrupted with a call about a stepson who had returned to drinking.  That involved calls back and forth.

All of this plus the absence of Scott and Bill underline again the nature of the changes that define this particular retreat.  In an afternoon session Charlie H. talked of his move into a new condo on Grand Avenue in St. Paul and a simultaneous move to the cabin in Wisconsin.  He and Barbara say they want to emphasize soul work in this next phase, perhaps cutting back on travel and social ties.

Mark spoke of drift, a life pleasant and good, but without the artfulness and grace he wants.  He also identified qualities he wanted to have he defined as present in others of us:  Stefan’s wonderful care of his body, Frank’s caring for others, my discipline.

Stefan said he likes things as they are, that the Woollies have and continue to support the richness of life, the reason for living.  He finds his journey as a man and as a spiritual being reinforced.

Warren spoke of his journey toward retirement, “I see expansiveness ahead, a time to try many different things.  Work feels finished.”  He and Shery have given the last to caring for their parents, “Work was often a respite from care giving.”  Now, with his father in hospice care, and the last of the four parents, a major life change is in the offing for him.  And he welcomes it.

Tom told about the surprises life brings, often unpleasant and hurtful, especially when life doesn’t work out as expected or as dreamed.  Several echoed that they had not brought that pain into the group. Maybe we can do that now, someone said, the traditional male role sloughed off after work ends.

My sharing focused on a look back over the last couple of years, then projecting forward.  Over the last two years I’ve learned Latin, written a novel, chaired the Sierra Club legislative committee, become a bee keeper.  I’ve had the good fortune to grapple with a life undetermined by traditional work since my early forties, so I’ve had some time to listen to who I am outside of the day-to-day work world.

Over the next few years I’ll be revising/editing Missing, writing Loki’s Children and the Unmaking, working on a commentary for Ovid’s Metamorphoses and fleshing out my Reimagining Faith project.

Kate and I have decided to remain here in the Twin Cities and in Andover as long as possible.  Our medical care professionals are here; our home we’ve worked hard to create; our friends; the institutions we love.  We have memories here, too.

All of these facets of all our lives feed into any change we ultimately decide to make.

Day II  9:30 pm

Warren, Tom, Mark and Stefan all took a sauna before supper.  Stefan and Ode were flushed; Warren and Tom were ready to sleep.  After supper we retired to the Octagon and heard an update on Regina’s situation.  That launched a long discussion on health and health issues.  Mark noted that we’re a pretty healthy group of guys. He’s right.

We veered back on topic at some point, covering a general question, raised by Stefan, of how to organize life, how to have time for something other than duty oriented tasks.  This raised a lot of interest in how we organize our time.  Mark writes his day down with objectives and lengths of time at breakfast.  Then he discards the list.  I have blocks of time for Latin, writing, bee keeping.  Frank takes calls and organizes his day around them.

Warren and Charlie H., both peri-retiremental, wonder how they will organize their time when they finally push away from work.   One thing the Woollies can do is serve as a sounding board for how things progress.  Tom, too, is headed in that direction.

Around 9:00 we decided enough.  Tom suggested we sleep on how to organize tomorrow, perhaps starting with dream sharing.  We agreed and I walked back across the central grassy area to the Meadows where I’m about to drink a cup of peppermint tea and check for ticks.

 

Retreat Day 1: May 3rd

Beltane                                           Beltane Moon

The Meadows, see picture below, has a sort of couch-bed, it looks like an oversized trundle bed.  I’ve slept on it before.  Not home, but it’ll do when I’m tired.  Which I am.

Tom and I drove up Hwy 65, a slower, but prettier way to get here than going up 35.  We stopped for lunch at the Red Ox, an old fashioned cafe near Andover, then drove through without stopping.

Once we made it to McGrath, we turned east and found the Dwelling in the Woods right where Tom’s GPS said it would be.  After paying our $300 for the weekend (includes all meals), Tom dropped me off at the Meadows and I unpacked, lay down for a bit, then wandered over to the Octagon, a larger facility where Tom, Warren, Frank and Charlie Haislet will stay.  Mark and Stefan are in a unit behind the Octagon.

Warren put his father into hospice care this morning, so we talked about that and how Warren felt.  His Dad expressed relief in knowing that his days have dwindled to months.  He’s 93 and his wife died earlier this year, so he’s ready.

At dinner we had chili and salad and a wonderful bread.  We also met Kina, a beautiful dog, a husky/terrier mix that got really lucky.  Her coat is a gray blue and she has tufts on her ears.  An eager, friendly girl Tom and I spent time playing with her.

With dinner behind us we adjourned again to the Octagon and started feeling our way into this strange retreat.  We talked about change, about what we’re talking about, about the past and the future.  I read Scott Simpson’s e-mail to the group and we discussed his ideas.

Later on we decided that we each needed to have time over the next couple of days to say how we see ourselves in the third phase, what particular shape its taking in our lives.  It’s out of that concrete reality that we can redesign the Woolly’s so it speaks to this stage of our lives.  I’m looking forward to that conversation.

Moon Also Rises

Spring                                                           Beltane Moon

The second rainy chilly day.  Perfect.  Tomorrow and Tuesday will be outside days again, planting and other things, but now I have my gas stove turned on, the study is warm and I’m going to have another day of writing, reading and watching movies.

A friend’s mother-in-law, 97, lies at home, hospice care.  A Chinese national, born in Canton, she has created a long and active life, filled with calligraphy, gardening, cooking, writing, reading and family.

Another friend went out and stayed the night with her yesterday.

Moon’s decline underscores the transition for our men’s group.  Death and serious illness has become common, no longer stories of other’s lives.  Perhaps Moon, as well as any other,  shows a way to live into the Third Phase.

She did not give up the things that made her who she was.  She stayed rooted in her tradition, yet took parts of it and made them her own and, in so doing, transformed them from things of yesterday into things of today and tomorrow.  Each of the Woolly’s have our names in Chinese courtesy of Moon.  She wrote poetry and a book of hers was published a couple of years ago by her family.

Many were the meals at Scott’s house in which Moon added her touches to Yin’s work.  She had a quiet way, yet exuded a person who knew who she was, a person complete and whole, a real presence in the world.  No one’s cipher.

Now Moon rises in the night sky.  She will not be forgotten.

A Third Phase Entry: I Don’t Have Friends Who Knew Me When

Spring                                           Bee Hiving Moon

Sometimes realizations float up in conversation, product of a gestalt not possible without others.  That happened to me tonight at the Woolly regular first Monday meal.

Gathered at the Woodfire Grill in St. Louis Park, we began to toss around the topic of change.  Woolly change.  Some of us express excitement about change; some want to explore change, but do not want to lose what’s still valuable to them

At some point in the conversation I said, “Well, it’s not true for any of you, but for me, I didn’t go to high school here.  I don’t have those friends here who knew me when.  When I face down those final days, you’re those friends for me.”

Without even realizing what I’d done, I had laid a vulnerable part of me on the table, not a fear exactly, but a concern.  I don’t want Kate to have all the responsibility.  Nor do I want to have all of it for her.  Most of it, sure.  But not all.

Here then, was naked need.  A need for reassurance that these relationships will last.  Until death do us part.  That’s the realization.  I need to know that these guys will be there for me, as I will be for them.  It’s not often that an unexplored need strikes me, and rarely in public, but it happened tonight.

Let me quickly say that I don’t doubt these relationships.  It’s just that I didn’t realize how important, crucial even, they are for me.

The Aging Woolly

Imbolc                                                Woodpecker Moon

Woolly meeting tonight at Frank Broderick’s.  His annual St. Patrick’s day feed with soda bread, mashed potatoes, cabbage and corned beef.  A real tradition for the Woolly Clan and appreciated by all of us.

Interesting discussion tonight, occasioned in part by our first ever retreat in May and what will we do?  This molded itself in, too, to the issue of Woolly’s leaving:  Paul to Maine, Charlie to a part-time Wisconsin life and Jim out there on the plains lo these many years now.

What has kept us together for 25 years?  What meeting has meant the most to you?  How do we reshape ourselves as we all move closer and most now into the third phase of our lives.  The first 25 years the Woolly meetings were a place to withdraw from the competitive day-to-day and listen to each other, to learn from each other.  Now that we all have plenty of time for withdrawal and listening, what will the Woolly life need to be?

Ode 1 felt we no longer supported him in his journey as well now that he has retired.  This seemed to be a common point, how can the Woollies change to be germane in this next phase of our lives. We’re going to put the whole thing up for grabs during the retreat.  Sounds exciting.

Woollies On the Move

Imbolc                                                    Woodpecker Moon

My first Sports Show tour tomorrow.  1 pm.  This show, as one docent friend said, is “a different animal.”  It attracts a sporting audience for sure, whether it attracts the arts audience is not so clear.  At least those are the reports I’ve been getting from docents who’ve toured it already.

I’m prepared, but in some ways I expect to wing it, since a sports focused group would be very different from an arts focused group.  I look forward to either one.  I like this show, as I’ve said before, so I’m interested to see how it works with museum goers.

Wedding bells are breaking up that old gang of mine.  Only they’re not wedding bells, they’re post-retirement living arrangements.  Woolly Jim Johnson headed west to the plains of South Dakota several years ago.  He comes to the retreats and at least one meeting each year.

Woolly Paul Strickland and his wife Sarah, friends of mine for over 30 years, have decided to shift their home to their property in Maine, close to the Bay of Fundy.  Woolly Charlie Haislet will begin to split his time between St. Paul (a new condo) and his cabin in Wisconsin.  Paul says he’ll be back for retreats, and I imagine he will, but all these moves will change the character of our group.

Probably the more amazing story is that we’ve stayed essentially stable for 25 years.  None of these moves were unexpected, and for those making them, they signal an accomplishment.  More third phase stuff at work.

Memory and Forgiveness and Death

Winter                                           First Moon of the New Year

Finished the Art of Fielding.  A book about striving and letting go, about loving and letting go, about baseball and Moby Dick, about heterosexuality and homosexuality, about living and dying.  All in the compass of northeastern Wisconsin, around Door County.  A fine read.

In the movie Patton, George C. Scott as Patton, in reviewing a harsh slap to a soldier with shell-shock, what we would call post-traumatic stress syndrome, recalls the morale of the other soldiers in the Third Army, “It was,” he says, in an explanation and a confession, “on my mind.”  Scott’s gravely delivery has lodged this sentence in my mind.

It reveals to me the awful and the beautiful truth about memory.  We can stand condemned by our past, but in our remembrance of things past (proust), we can confess in that Catholic way, a heartfelt acknowledgment of our complicity and yet our need and our opportunity to live beyond it and, if necessary, in spite of it.

This thought occurs to me after Marian Wolfe’s funeral, after all funerals, all deaths.  Whether there is a great judge who puts your soul on the scale against a feather or a sudden extinction, the moment after death is no different than the next moment in life.

This may seem a shocking thought, but consider.  At any one moment in time we carry what miners call an overburden, the piled up soil and stones and boulders and tree roots and unessential rock of our life experience.  At any one moment in time, too, we may cease to be.  In fact, at some moment, soon or late, we will cease to be.  And the moment after we die is no different than the one that comes next.  Right now.

Think of it.  When we die, that living slate gets wiped clean, a lifetime folds up and gets tucked away.  This is the same opportunity we each have, every moment, if we can only open ourselves to our past, receive it in all its humanness, accept it and move on.

You may say we live in the memory of others.  Well, the memory of you lives on in the lives and memories of others, also perhaps in land you’ve loved, books you’ve written, paintings you’ve created, houses you’ve built, quilts you’ve made, but these are not you.  They are the memory, the imprint of you.

You are that whole universe lived within your Self, in the body and in the mind and in the spirit or the soul.  That others can never know, can never see, can never experience.  That universe experiences its apocalypse at the moment of your death.

This is very liberating.  We need only accept the death of our private universe to realize how tiny each event that looms so large in our memory is.  It will be swept away.

Hmm. getting tired here and don’t want to dig this further right now.  But its important to me anyhow.

 

Woolly Mammoths Tramp Through The Marsh

Samain                                      Moon of the Winter Solstice

Woollies tonight at the Marsh in Minnetonka.  We met in the moon room, a dining room with several tables overlooking, I imagine, the marsh, but it was dark.

Tom Crane gave every one a sharp bladed pocket knife with a mammoth bone embedded in the handle.  Nice.

Kate and I gave a half pint of honey to everyone and I passed out the small paintings I picked up in Ecuador.  It was a Christmassy sort of moment.  Scott gave Kate and me gift tags that Yin had found.  They have bee hives printed on them.

We caught up on family matters and projects around the table.  Discussed the Edo Pop show at the MIA.

A short meeting, but a good one.

Woolly Mammoths, 6 pm

Samain                            Moon of the Winter Solstice

First time at the Marsh, out on Minnetonka Blvd.  The Western burbs version of a California health spa.  In a small room off the dining area for their food service was a sign:  Woolly Mammoths, 6:00 pm.

Inside were Bill , Warren , Frank , Stefan and Mark.  Tales of the trip, yes, but mostly we were there to support Warren whose mother received a cancer diagnosis two days before Thanksgiving.  She’s now in hospice care at an assisted living center, asking only for palliative care.

Warren has been intimately involved with both his parents and his wife’s parents in their aging and decline.  They represent a degree of love and concern in that situation seen all too rarely.

On the way back I couldn’t find any music I liked, so, as I’ve done a lot lately while driving, I turned the radio off and entered into a road trip state of mind, a little bit country and a little bit Zen.

 

All Ha’il

Fall                                              Waxing Harvest Moon

First communication back from Mark in Saudi Arabia.  He says he hasn’t set up his computer yet and that the school seems to have a good connection.  He mentions the school is in Ha’il*.  Guess that’s where he is now.  So far that’s all I know.

Met with the Woolly’s last night at our once and forever location:  the Black Forest.  Tom Crane, Mark Odegard, Frank Broderick, Scott Simpson and Warren Wolfe showed up.  We went around the table, catching each other up on this and that.  Mark’s leaving.  Our cruise.  Tom and Roxann’s trip to Florida.  Mark O’s knee.  Warren’s upcoming article on Medicare.

Scott and I talked about something called latency trading.  Here’s an article that explains some of it.  The part it doesn’t explain is the drive, now well established, to position large supercomputer networks as close as physically possible to stock exchanges around the world.  Why?  To capture the millisecond advantage in data transmission that results from close proximity to the data feed itself.  Each millisecond can mean tens of millions of dollars in trading advantage.  According to Scott, physical proximity can yield as much as a 3 millisecond advantage.  Do the math.

On the drive home, the half Autumn moon hung in the night sky.  The moon roof was open and stars shone down through it.  The air was mild, with just that hint of fall.  Perfect.

*Ha’il (Arabic: حائل‎ Ḥā’il), also spelled Hail, Ha’yel, or Hayil, is an oasis city in Nejd in northwestern Saudi Arabia. It is the capital of the Ha’il Province. The city has a population of 356,876 according to Ha’il Province.

Ha’il is largely agricultural, with significant grain, date, and fruit production. A large percentage of the kingdom’s wheat production comes from Ha’il Province, where the area to the northeast, 60 km to 100 km away, consists of irrigated gardens. Traditionally Ha’il derived its wealth from being on the camel caravan route of the Hajj. Ha’il is well known by the generosity of its people in Saudi Arabia and the Arab world as it is the place where Hatim al-Tai lived.